A breath away from life (ONC2024)

VIII. The white crow

Snow flutters as Cyra’s strides lengthen, my cloak whisked by the icy winds, lifting in the air behind me. Lorne riding with the familiar lazy elegance that seems to accompany him in whatever he decides to do. The scenery slowly changes as the mountains grow further apart, the temple of Sire growing far clearer. Situated in an isolated land between the mountain clans and Deeping valley, its solemn beauty glistening in polished onyx stone, an imposing yet alluring wonder.

Slowing to a walk, Lorne runs a gentle hand along Cyra’s neck as the reaching voices of those gathered rise ever more. A slight smile touches my lips, as I appreciate the silence of Lorne’s presence, never useless or frivolous. At times, it feels as though I'm alone, left to my thoughts and uncaring of him; the cold shoulder, nothing more than an amusement to him. Neither us interested in entertaining others, to put on a show or pander to another who is less than nothing. Though we have a bargain between us, my promise to fulfil his desires is just that, there is no need to play a part, our promise enough.

Coming to a halt near to the outer edges of the gathering, I watch as those of wealth and position cast their gazes to those surrounding them. Judgemental eyes dripping envy and malice lead the way, while condescending stares express snide sentences with flawlessness. The air clouding with their frozen breaths, filled with disdain. Yet there are still many who garner those flattering in the hopes of a marriage proposal, raising their wealth and family position (my thoughts drift to my own family, that did far worse). Though even they were not spared from the mockery and laughter of their peers. The wisest choosing to endure the humiliation of others’ secret whispering, but remembering their family name, so when they rise in society, a time would come to repay the favour.

Sighing softly, the sight brings about a lost yearning for the love that once was, while a stronger sense of revulsion settles within me. A husky but charming laugh leaves Lorne’s lips, as though he has guessed all that I am feeling. “Are you longing for your days at the palace court, beautiful Wren? Or are you lamenting that my first desire is already upon you?”

A wry smile graces my lips. “The only true longing in my heart is for revenge. As for lamenting your first desire, I was at the palace court for two years. Deceit is an art, and one that I find distasteful.” At my words, he turns, a question lingering in his beautiful eyes. “For nearly a year, Kovan pursued me, but I turned him away. Some time after, he made a vow to take care of my family and I, to save us from ruin, if I would allow him to court me. Though I was ignorant of the betrayal of my mother and father in the past, who from the beginning knew that Kovan would tear my soul from my flesh. Together, they were slipping the love-lye remedy into my wine from mere months of courting. Back then, I still had the love of a naive child. Children come into this world to love and to be loved. Yet, your brother gifted me the searing pain of betrayal and the dark bitterness of love, along with the art of deceit. All of these gifts I've taken to heart, and vowed to wield in the very worst of ways.”

Unbeknown to me, my eyes had warmed with a glassiness that has been lost for some time, but Lorne raises a hand, catching a single tear upon his fingertip. The pale red droplet, a symbol of my fear and love, but also of my shame.

Loathing myself for allowing him to see such a sight, I turn away, but his hand rises to catch my chin, moving up to caress my cheek. “It seems that you’ve leant to wield them a little too well.” He raises my head, a look of understanding lying shallow in his gaze; as I wonder, not for the first time, about his own history.

Soon the whispers and carelessly spoken conversations begin to intrude. The darkness surrounding us, having deepened as the stroke of midnight steps ever closer. Above, the star-filled sky has all but veiled us, with the two moons casting their glittering light upon us. The silver rays blending with their golden twin, to create an ethereal glow. Knowing that the beginning of the Luna hunt is near, I slide down from Cyra’s back, raising an eyebrow at Lorne. “I take that to mean, that you will be riding for the Luna hunt? This time, am I to cling to you for the thrill?”